The Barmaid's tale
by Whizzothecrunchyfrog
Summary: A Year after the events of the Brothers Grimm. Jake and Will are staying at Gretchen Mills' inn while investigating a haunting in town. What effect will these events have our heroine? Chapter seven up!
1. Evening at the Drunken Steward

It was going to be another late night at the Drunken Steward. Gretchen Mills leaned over the bar, trying to take some weight off her tired feet. It was a dark, gloomy night, pouring down buckets of rain. Those here now would likely be staying until the last call.

"You look tired." Gretchen's cousin Peter came out from the kitchen.

"What gave me away?" she smiled wearily.

"It looked like you need some help out here."

"That would be nice." Gretchen stood back on her feet, wincing a little. "I'll start taking orders, you can get the tap." Peter nodded.

Gretchen walked to the end of the bar, where two young men stood waiting. One of them quickly scribbled something into a book.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" she asked them, trying to appear as energetic as she could.

"Yes, actually," said one, smiling in a way which some people might have found charming, but which Gretchen found a little sleazy. "We'd like to book a room for a few nights."

"Oh! Excellent." Gretchen brought out a leather-bound ledger from below the counter, and a pen. "Just sign your names here, put down today's date and one night's payment. I'll get your key. She leaned down and opened a cupboard behind her, removing one room key from a hook.

"All right Herr…" she glanced at the ledger, "…Grimm, you'll be in room five. Here's the key. You sirs feel free to have a drink or something to eat. Last call's at 2 A.M."

"We shall, thank you." Another charming/sleazy grin, and a nod from the other bespectacled young man, and they were off. Gretchen returned to the bar.

"So we've got some lodgers, then?" Peter asked.

"Yep. Two fellows named Grimm." Gretchen's cousin gaped at her.

"Surely you're not serious!"

"Why? What's so special about them?"

"They're the ones who killed that witch-queen in Marbaden last November. They wrote the book we've been reading, Gretchen!"

"Oh, of course! I thought there was something familiar about the name."

"Dad will be over the moon. Imagine! The Brothers Grimm staying at the Drunken Steward!"

"Well, I imagine they've got to sleep somewhere when they travel. Anyway, the one who talked to me seemed a bit of a sleaze."

"Ahem," came a voice from behind them. Gretchen turned around. One of their new lodgers, the one with the glasses, was standing at the bar.

Gretchen flushed, embarrassed. Peter just stared. "Good evening again, sir. What'll you have?"

"Two pints of bitter, please," he said, with a hint of amusement.

"Right away." Gretchen elbowed Peter in the ribs.

"Oh, right!" Peter grabbed two tankards. Gretchen turned back to her customer.

"So, what brings you to Schatzberg?" she asked him.

"Er, we're just passing through."

"From what your brother was saying, it sounds like you'll be here longer than 'just passing through'. Here're your pints," she added as Peter placed the two foaming tankards on the counter.

"Thanks." The lodger took the two tankards back to a table where his brother was already deep in conversation with Sonya the kitchen-maid.

"Isn't she supposed to be on dish duty?" Peter asked.

"Yes. And on a night like this, she shouldn't be venturing out of the kitchen. You want me to handle her?"

"You'd better. I'll handle the customers." Peter turned to a group of men facing him with empty tankards and impatient faces. Gretchen ducked under the end of the counter and made her way over to the table.

"…So, how many kitchen-maids did you say worked here?" the charming-sleazy Grimm brother was saying to Sonya as Gretchen arrived.

"Sonya, you need to be in the kitchen."

"But…" Sonya protested.

"You. Kitchen. Now. No excuses." Sonya opened her mouth to say something. "I know who they are, and I don't care if they're demon hunters or the messengers of God himself. You've got a job to do." Sonya shot daggers at her as she walked back to the kitchen. Gretchen turned toward the brothers. "I'm sorry I had to cut that little chat short, gentlemen. I'm sure it was of the utmost importance (a look at charming-Grimm), but we're terribly busy tonight. I'd better be heading back to the bar myself. Enjoy the ale." Gretchen smiled as politely as she could muster and walked back to the counter.

"Good job," Peter told her.

"Thanks. I tell you, those fellows haven't even been here one night and already I don't like them."

"Maybe that's what comes of celebrity."

"If that's true, then I never want to be famous."

"Me either." Spectacles was back. Again, Gretchen felt herself go red. "Sounds atrocious." He grinned.

"I'm sorry, did you need a refill?" Gretchen asked, a little miffed.

"No, just some conversation. My brother's nice; don't get me wrong, but after a few months on the road…"

_Or a few minutes off it_, Gretchen thought to herself. "We're a little busy, Herr Grimm," she said coldly.

"I can handle it," Peter said quickly. Gretchen glared at her cousin, who grinned impishly back.

"I think we've started off on the wrong foot here," Spectacles said.

"Funny how that happens sometimes," Gretchen replied.

"Anyway, we were never properly introduced." Spectacles stuck out a hand. "My name's Jacob Grimm. What's yours?"

_Just humor him and maybe he'll go away_, Gretchen thought. She shook Jacob's hand. "I'm Gretchen Miller."

"A pleasure to meet you."

"So you and your brother are the ones who helped find all those girls in Marbaden last year?"

"…In a manner of speaking, yes. I'm not about to flaunt it."

"My cousin's a big fan. We've been working our way through your book." Jacob's eyes seemed to light up at this.

"Oh yes? And what did you think of it?"

"So far it's not bad. A bit of a hodge-podge of local folktales, isn't it?"

"Along with some personal experience, yes."

"The only one I'm not crazy about is that one about the girl who gets eaten by a wolf."

"Red Riding-Hood?"

"That's the one."

"The wolf part always gets people. They think it's impossible that she'd come out of his belly alive."

"Oh, that's not what bothers me." Jacob looked up with interest. "It's the imagery. It really sticks with me." She shuddered, "Where on earth would you get such an idea?"

"That was one of those that came from personal experience." Gretchen stared.

"That can't be true."

"No, it is. Well, the eaten alive part. Not the wolf part. In Marbaden my brother and I saw a girl eaten alive by a horse. Its stomach bulged way out, like a big sack." He stretched his arms out to illustrate.

"Wow." Gretchen was completely absorbed.

"You don't…doubt this at all?" Jacob asked curiously.

"Should I?" she asked.

"No, no of course not." He looked increasingly pleased. "Um, I think your friend could use some help…" he pointed down the bar where Peter was trying to take and fill several orders simultaneously, and not doing very well at it.

"Oh! Oh no. I'm sorry, I've got to go help…It was nice talking to you. Maybe if there's another break in the customers…or the weather." Jacob nodded in understanding, and left to go back to his table. Sonya was back talking to charming-Grimm.

"SONYA!" Gretchen shouted, "KITCHEN!" If looks could kill, Gretchen would have been dead. But as it was, she was still very much alive, and suddenly overwhelmed with thirsty and hungry customers.

"Looks like you couldn't handle it after all, eh?" she chided her cousin.

"I'm doing my best," he said indignantly.

"Let me get that." Gretchen took three tankards from her cousin and put them on the counter, where they were quickly snatched up. She took a long glance at the Grimms' table. _Perhaps they're not so bad after all_, she thought to herself. Jacob looked up in her direction, and Gretchen quickly turned her head, so he didn't think she'd been staring.

"Take the orders for a while, Peter. I can pull the tap."

The rest of the evening was a blur. Finally, it was 2 AM.

"LAST CALL, EVERYONE!" Peter shouted as Gretchen rang the bell. Some left, others—most others—came up front for one final drink. Gretchen looked back at the kitchen. Sonya was still glaring at her.

"Fine, Sonya. You can go back out and make eyes at the famous new guests. Go." Sonya said nothing, but quickly dropped her washcloth into the dishwater and vacated the kitchen. Half an hour later, everyone had left, and Peter got up to bolt the door.

"Kitchen's closed," Gretchen said as Jacob approached.

"I know. I just thought I'd let you know that we'll be heading up to our room now."

"Okay…Goodnight Herr Grimm."

"Please, it's Jacob."

"Alright, then. Goodnight, Jacob."

"Goodnight," he replied, and went up the stairs to join his brother. Gretchen waved at them from below. _That was a little strange_, she thought.

"I still can't believe we've got Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm staying in our inn," Peter said as he wiped down the counter.

"Like I said before Peter, they've got to stay somewhere."

"Yes, but _here_ of all places. I wonder why they've come."

"God only knows. I suppose we could ask tomorrow."

"Are you working tomorrow?" Peter asked.

"No. It's my day off. I plan on getting a lot of sleep. Uncle Klaus will be back tomorrow, won't he?" Peter's father (and Gretchen's uncle), Klaus Hilmar, was the proprietor of the inn. He had gone to Berlin the day before on a monthly supply run.

"He should be."

"Good. It always gets hectic here when he's not around."

"You're telling me. Speaking of which, are you going to talk to him about Sonya?"

"Of course I am! She should have been washing dishes, not chatting up the guests, even if they _were_ famous." Gretchen removed her apron and hung it on a hook next to the ale barrels. "I'm going upstairs. Goodnight, Peter."

"Night, Gretchen." Gretchen left the bar and headed up the stairs. She rented a room from her uncle as well as working in the bar. She slept in room number 8, down at the end of the hall. She unlocked her door and got ready for bed. She fell onto her bed, exhausted. Within a matter of moments, she was fast asleep, snuggled into the mattress with the quilt pulled up around her chin.


	2. What was said at Breakfast

Gretchen had no dreams that night. Her sleep was completely peaceful. She woke to the sound of thunder and lightning outside.

"What time is it?" she groaned sleepily, and looked at the clock on her wall. It was 10:30. She smiled. She liked it when she had the chance to sleep in and ease into the day.

Gretchen got up and got looked around in her wardrobe for clothes. She pulled out a green skirt and white shirt. She pulled her hair away from her face with a scarf, and left to go find something for breakfast. She might not have been working that day, but she did live here and still had access to the kitchens. She grabbed a basket from beside the door, went downstairs and started on her way.

"Good morning, Herr Stein," Gretchen called out amiably as she entered the bakery.

"Ah, Gretchen! What can I get for you today?" the robust, walrus-like baker replied from behind his counter.

"I'll have a loaf of the potato bread, I think."

"Excellent. You're not working today?"

"No, Herr Stein. I'm taking it easy for now. Thought I might get some things together for breakfast.

"An excellent idea." Herr Stein returned with a floury loaf of potato bread. "That's one and a half francs." Gretchen dug in her pocket for the money.

"This damned French currency is so hard to figure," she said as she paid him.

"Believe me, I wish every day we could go back to marks. It would be so much easier. But those French frogs aren't easy on anyone." The baker took the money. "Thanks, Gretchen."

"Any time, Herr Stein. Say hello to Gurda for me."

"Will do!" Herr Stein waved as Gretchen left.

While walking back from the bakery, Gretchen noticed last night's lodgers going through their cart in the inn's stable.

"Are you leaving already, gentlemen?" she asked them. Jake looked up.

"Oh, no. Nothing of the sort. We're preparing for the day's work."

"What would that be?"

"We've come to get rid of a demon." Gretchen almost dropped her bread.

"_That's_ why you're here?"

"The mayor sent for us," Will Grimm said from behind the cart. He sounded irritated.

"How much did he tell you about this demon?" Gretchen asked.

"Jake's done a bit of preliminary research." Will came out from where he'd been crouching. The look on his face clearly said _just get out of here and let the professionals handle things_.

"I think you ought to know a bit more than 'preliminary research' before you go gallivanting off to vanquish this thing." Gretchen glanced at her loaf of bread, then back at the Grimms. "Have you boys had breakfast yet?"

"No, we haven't," said Jake,

"But it's not necessary," added his brother. Gretchen raised an eyebrow.

"I think the two of you ought to come with me," she said.

A few minutes later, the Grimms were sitting down at a table in the kitchen while Gretchen served up sausages, scrambled eggs and the bread.

"Normally we don't serve breakfast to guests, but considering your relative ignorance on our problem..."

"We don't need any help," Will said indignantly.

"Just like you didn't need any help in Marbaden?"

"What do you know about Marbaden?"

"I'm not stupid, Herr Grimm. I don't know just how much help you two needed, but I do know that you can't go running to some place you've never been and expect to take care of everything with a wave of your hand and no knowledge whatsoever on what it is you're fighting. You do that, and you're likely to wind up dead the first day." Will looked dumbfounded. Jake stuffed some eggs into his mouth, trying pitifully to hide a smile. "So tell me, Grimms. What _do_ you know about our demon?"

"Well," Jake said with his mouth full, digging through his bag, "From what I've read," he produced a large, leather-bound book. "It says here that he's been around for centuries. Goes by the name of Balthazar."

"Right so far," Gretchen said. "Our village has something of an agreement with Balthazar. Every year on All Souls' Eve, he comes out and looks for someone to take. We draw a lottery. The person whose name is drawn out of the box is left outside. Everyone else locks their doors. Then Balthazar comes out and claims his sacrifice. We do this in exchange for peace from Balthazar. If we fail to produce a sacrifice, then our town is basically doomed."

"And it's All Souls' Day in two days," Jake said.

"Uh huh. The mayor's got three daughters. They're of age this year, so he's probably afraid they'll be chosen at the next lottery. If you two can take care of our demon problem, he'll never have to worry about his daughters being sacrificed.

"Of age? What exactly does that mean?" Will asked.

"There are rules to the lottery," Gretchen said. "Anyone below the age of sixteen is deemed too young to participate. Their names aren't included in the drawing. The mayor also has immunity, since he runs the town. So do the jailer and the police sergeant. However, their families do not."

"So they mayor's daughters are fair game?" Jake asked.

"As is anyone else in the village over sixteen."

"Wouldn't that be hard on the population?"

"Not so much as you'd think. With people losing sons and daughters all the time, people are forced to...compensate. There's actually a regulation here that all married couples must attempt to have at least two children."

"Why doesn't anyone just move?" Will scoffed.

"Because this is their home! Most everyone has lived here all their lives. You can't just up and leave behind a lifetime or more of personal history." Gretchen was liking Will less and less the more she talked to him.

"So how can we vanquish this fellow?" Jake broke in.

"Well, nobody's entirely certain. It's never been tried before."

"That's just stupid." Will leaned back in his chair, "You're all a bunch of sitting ducks! I tell you, if we weren't being paid for this..."

"What is your problem?" Gretchen shouted angrily. "Just because you've never had a home, traditions or anything, doesn't mean you have the right to come here and start telling us how to behave. People here don't stand up to Balthazar because they're afraid of what might happen to them."

"Better to try and kill him than to keep sacrificing to him every year," Will grumbled.

"Any attempt to kill Balthazar would break the village's pact with him. If the attempt failed and Balthazar survived, our village would be cursed forever. We'd be sacrificing not just once a year, but _every day_. The mayor's taking everyone's lives in his hands by calling you two here. Let me tell you, once the villagers find out why you're here, you won't be treated with such celebrity status. I'm not even sure if _I_ approve."

"How old are you?" Jake asked.

"I'm twenty-one. And no, I'm not afraid of being picked for the lottery. I believe in fate. If it's truly time for me to go, then I will go. No questions asked. God has a plan. I choose to respect that plan."

"Don't you find it hard to believe in God when you have things like demons cursing your town?" Will asked skeptically.

"The world is a strange place. If we're cursed, there must be a reason for it. We just don't know what it is yet. At least I believe in God, instead of using his sign as a meaningless weapon." Gretchen and Will glared at each other. Again, Jake broke the awkward silence.

"How does Balthazar kill his victims?"

"What does any demon do? He possesses them. Every year we provide the vessel he needs to survive for another year on earth."

"But why a new body every year?"

"The way I understand it, it works something like buying produce. Like food, the body goes rotten after a time." Will shuddered.

"Makes sense," Jake said attempting (but failing) to sound unfazed.

"So, what did you two have in mind to do today?"

"Will had in mind to go looking for a lair. Or evidence of one. Any idea where to start?"

"Even if I could tell you, I don't think I would."

"You would rather condemn another person to death?" Will stood, shocked.

"If the two of you tried to kill Balthazar, you might fail. Failure would kill everyone. I'd rather just one person die instead of risk the whole village. The mayor was stupid to have called you in."

"Is there something personal you've got against us?"

"Not as yet, no." Gretchen eyes bored into Will's skull. "As a reader, I respect your work, and I know that you're only trying to do your job. But I'm telling you that perhaps you ought to think about doing it somewhere else."

"Look, if you're really so opposed to having us here, why'd you give us any information at all?"

"I thought you might want to know just what it is the two of you are getting yourselves into. It might help to know the consequences if you fail."

"What if we succeeded?" Jake asked, "Have you considered the positive aspects at all?"

"Of course I have. It would be a real blessing to never need to lose another person to Balthazar. But the way I see it, the chances are greater of your defeat than your victory." Gretchen heard the front door slamming open.

"And if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, my day is beginning. I suggest you seriously think about how you're going to spend _yours._" Gretchen stood irritably and collected the plates, putting them into the washbasin. On his way out, Jake stopped to talk.

"Gretchen, I'm sorry if we've upset you. There's really no alternative here, though. We've been called here to do a job. And we don't leave jobs undone."

"Good for you," Gretchen said bitterly. "Now go. Please." There was a pause. Jake sighed, and followed his brother out the door.


	3. A Truce is Called

Gretchen's uncle Klaus Hilmar entered the kitchen moments after the Grimms had left.

"Good morning, Gretchen!"

"Uncle Klaus! How was Berlin?" Gretchen gave her uncle a hug.

"Not bad, not bad at all. Busy, as always. The big city can't compare to the view here." He smiled, "I've got loads of things to carry in. I was wondering if you couldn't help me. I know Wednesdays are your days off, but..."

"I don't mind at all, Uncle."

"I saw Peter at the stables. He says we've got some high-profile guests staying here."

"Oh. Right." Gretchen busied herself scrubbing off the breakfast dishes.

"I was sure you'd be jumping with excitement, you having read their book and all."

"They're really not as great as people make them out to be, Uncle Klaus." Klaus Hilmar frowned. He glanced at the dishes, then back at his niece.

"Who were you eating with?" he asked, indicated the dishes.

"The high-profile guests you mentioned before."

"Well, that's something, right? Why the long face?" he put a large hand on Gretchen's shoulder.

"I found out why they came here. Uncle Klaus, they're here to finish off Balthazar." Klaus' face drained of color.

"Did you tell them...?"

"I told them everything I thought they should know. I told them about the lottery, the risk they were taking, all of it. I tried, Uncle Klaus, I tried very hard to keep them from doing it, but it hasn't done a bit of good. The mayor hired them here, probably to keep Natasha and Gertrude and Jenna from being selected." She was crying now. "If they fail...We're all doomed."

"Shh..." Klaus patted his niece on the back. "They won't find anything. Nobody ever has. They won't do any harm, you'll see. Nothing will change. They won't find anything, the lottery will take place and someone will be sacrificed."

"I mean, it's not as though I like to see people I know dying, year after year..."

"Of course you don't. Nobody does. It's just the way things are."

"So what are we going to do? About the brothers Grimm, I mean."

"Nothing. We will do nothing. They will stay here as long as they have to, and when they can't find Balthazar, they will leave." He looked at Gretchen, who gave a feeble smile. "Now how about helping me unload that cart?"

Though Peter was shocked when his cousin told him why their latest guests had come to town, he was still more amazed when he found out how she had treated them.

"I can't believe you'd talk to them that way!" he said, going down into the cellar with a crate full of hops.

"Well, believe it. I all but told them to bugger off."

"I wouldn't have thought you'd feel that way." Peter's voice echoed from below.

"What do you mean by that?" Gretchen frowned as she rolled out a barrel of flour.

"Well, from the way it looked last night, you and Jacob looked as though you were getting on quite well."

"It's not that at all, Peter. It's not that I don't like them...though I suppose I'm not that crazy about Wilhelm Grimm. But it's what they're doing that I don't like, Peter. The whole village is in jeopardy now just because of stupid Mayor Scheisskopf."

"His name's Weisskopf, Gretch," Peter came out of the cellar, "It's a wonder you haven't gotten into trouble yet, calling him that all the time. And besides, those guys won't do us any harm. Balthazar's near impossible to find, right? They know less than we do about him. How can they find something they know nothing about?"

"I suppose you're right."

"Of course I'm right, Gretch," Peter gave her a quick noogie. "Just enjoy their company while they're here, eh? Revel in the excitement of their celebrity status. Andwhile you're at it,put in a good word for the stories,would you? I wouldn't mind them looking at some of my stuff." Peter was an amateur writer, and he'd been wanting to get somebody besides Gretchen (who collaborated with her cousin on occasion) to look at his work.

"I'll see what I can do, Peter." Gretchen smiled at her cousin.

Gretchen spent the rest of the day relaxing. She tried hard to forget the events that had transpired that morning, and the lottery that would follow the next afternoon. When she told Jake and his brother that she wasn't afraid to be sacrificed, she hadn't been lying. Not entirely, anyway. As much as Gretchen did believe in fate, she was also human and the thought of her name being drawn from the lottery chest was a little scary. Every year she tended to get butterflies in her stomach. However, she knew that the odds were in her favor, and besides, it was for a good cause...wasn't it?

The Grimms arrived back from their preliminary expedition later that afternoon. They looked cold, hungry, and rather frustrated. Gretchen was eating a late lunch in the front of the tavern when they came in. She waved amiably. Jake looked at her strangely, but waved back. Will nodded. The two of them got drinks and sat at a table nearby. Gretchen continued eating for a moment, then got up and walked over to where they were sitting.

"Gentlemen, I've come to apologize," she said. The brothers looked stunned. "I was a little...less than hospitable this morning, and I am sorry for that. Would it be inappropriate for me to call a truce?" There was a long, awkward pause during which the two members of the offended party looked at each other, then back at Gretchen.

"Well...I don't see why not," Jake said. "Have a seat."

"Are you alright with this?" Gretchen asked Will. He didn't say anything, but nodded silently (and a little grudgingly, by the look of it.). "Excellent." Gretchen got her plate and sat down.

"So does this mean you'd be willing to help us now?" Will asked.

"No. I should have mentioned that the truce was conditional. I'll be nice to the two of you as long as we avoid the topic of why you're here."

"Then what's the point?"

"Good conversation and good service, gentlemen. I'm afraid that's all I'll have to offer.

"What sort of service?" This was followed by an impish grin.

"Look, if you're going to be tasteless, I could easily call this whole thing off." Gretchen shot Will a look that was just short of poisonous.

"Sorry." Will was still smirking. Gretchen deftly changed the subject.

"So how are you both enjoying our village?"

"It's pretty nice, as villages go," Jake stated. "But as we've traveled, I at least have found that there's not much difference between one town and another, besides maybe the geography or local legends."

"I see." Gretchen wasn't sure if she should be interested or insulted. "What about the people? Are they any different?"

"No," Will put in, "They're not. Everywhere we go it's always the same. Superstitious villagers, worried mayors, town drunks, they're all the same."

"Ah." This conversation wasn't going the way Gretchen had planned at all. "What about writers? Surely since the publication of the book you've had people pushing things on you?"

"Like you would not believe," Will stared into his tankard. "Jake doesn't mind it, but I can't stand it." He looked up, "You're not trying to push your stuff on us, are you?"

"Er, no...My cousin's, actually." Will brought his tankard down hard on the table.

"There it is! That's why you've decided to be nice to us all of a sudden, isn't it?"

"Look, _he_ put me up to it, alright? I offered a truce out of the goodness of my own heart, and I thought I might do my cousin a little favor." She turned to Jake, "Is he always like this?"

"Not always, but he can be a bit...difficult sometimes. I wouldn't mind a read, though. That is, if you'd like me to."

"My cousin will be delighted, Jacob. The manuscript's up in his room. I'll go get it."

"Might I come with you?" he glanced back at Will, who looked a little surprised. "There'd be less noise," he added hastily.

"It's fine by me. Come on, then." The two of them headed up the stairs. Gretchen thought she noticed a slight spring in Jake's step as he followed her.

"Gretch!" Peter called from the bar, "Where are you going?"

"To your room, if that's alright. I'm going to show Herr Grimm the stories." Peter's face lit up.

"Thank you so much, sir," he said to Jake, "you have no idea how much this means to me."

"Don't mention it." Jake smiled.

Once upstairs, Gretchen reached into her pocket and pulled out a large ring of keys. After shuffling through them, she found the right one and unlocked the door.

"I'm sorry Peter's room is a bit of a mess," she said. "He's not the tidiest person around. I keep telling him he'll never be able to find anything in such a pigsty, but..."

"It's fine." Jake sat in a chair against the wall. "Where are the manuscripts?"

"I think he keeps them under his bed." Gretchen reached down, "Ah! Here they are." She pulled out a folder, stuffed to overflowing with papers, some loose, some tied together. "The ones tied together are finished." She handed Jake the folder and sat on Peter's bed, facing him.

"He certainly works a lot," Jake laughed as he pulled out bunch after bunch of finished stories. He flipped through one. "Are these illustrated?"

"Some of them are, yes. I did most of the drawing and some of the writing." Jake looked up.

"I couldn't very well let my cousin have all the fun now, could I?" she smiled.

"And what sort of story are you telling here?"

"It's mostly fairy-tale stuff. Peter started writing them when he began reading your book. You fellows have been something of an inspiration to him, to say the least. And," she added hastily, "I probably owe some of my ideas to you as well." Jake grinned appreciatively.

"It's always nice to hear that," he said, paging through one of the manuscripts. "Is this story about Balthazar?" he pointed to the pages. Gretchen looked over Jake's shoulder at Peter's story.

"Yes, that one is. Peter says that local things like that add originality."

"And what do _you_ think?"

"I think...Well, I can't help but feel Peter writes stories like that as wishful thinking more than a creative idea. You see, that story's about somebody who vanquishes Balthazar. There are a couple others, but this one's the best."

"So you think Peter wrote this story because he wants Balthazar dead?"

"As does everyone else here," Gretchen said, "But I'm afraid we're all quite aware that such a thing would have to remain fiction."

"Because of the probability of failure," Jake put in.

"Yes, exactly. It's just as I told you before. Nobody knows anything about Balthazar other than our agreement with him. Without proper knowledge of your opponent, how can you fight?"

"But my brother and I have fought demons before. We know how to deal with them," Jake closed the manuscript. "It's not as if we have no knowledge of how to kill this thing."

"But the risk you'd be taking...It'd be not just your lives on the line, but everyone's."

"I've seen such stakes before, believe me."

"Well I haven't!" Gretchen raised her voice, "I'm not prepared to see everything I've ever known put on the line like this, Jacob! I'm sure there are plenty of others who would agree with me." Jacob was about to say something, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Will poked his head in.

"Jacob, the mayor's steward is downstairs. He says Weisskopf would like a word with us." Jake nodded.

"Excuse me, Gretchen. We'll have to continue this discussion later." Gretchen nodded briskly as the brothers left, closing the door behind them.

As soon as she heard the door click shut, Gretchen stepped over to it and poked her head out slightly, to hear what Jake and Will were discussing as they approached the stairs.

"What was that all about?" Will asked.

"Nothing. She wanted me to look at her cousin's stories, and I was more than happy to oblige. That was all."

"It sounded like a little more than literary discussion to me."

"What exactly are you trying to imply here, bro?" Jake had stopped walking. Gretchen thought she saw Will glance in her direction, and she pulled her head a little further away from the door so he wouldn't suspect.

"Do you like her?" he asked Jake.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Well, she seems nice enough I guess..."

"You mooncalf! Of _all_ the people...How could you possibly like _her?_" Gretchen frowned. What on earth was Will talking about?

"What's wrong with her?" Jake asked defensively.

"She's nosy, obnoxious, stubborn..." Will counted off on his hand.

"Just because she doesn't think the sun shines out of your arse doesn't make her a bad person." Gretchen grinned from behind the door. Will stood there, glowering for a moment.

"Let's just go, shall we?" he huffed. "The steward's waiting." They went down the stairs and were gone.

A few minutes later, Gretchen herself went down the stairs. She stopped at the bar to talk with Peter.

"So?" he asked hopefully. "What did he think?"

"Of the stories?" Gretchen asked innocently.

"No, of the mess in my room. Of course the stories!" Peter took a dish towel and began rubbing out the inside of a tankard.

"I can't say, really, though I believe he was rather impressed."

"Did he say anything about the illustrations?"

"No, but he appeared to be intrigued."

"Intrigued and impressed, then?"

"As far as I could tell." Gretchen smiled at her cousin.

"This is great, Gretch! Wonderful! I can see it now: Peter Hilmar and Gretchen Mills, master storytelling team!" He spread his arms wide, a goofy grin on his face. Gretchen laughed at Peter's antics. They were stopped, however, by the loud toll of a bell from outside. All at once, everything got silent.

"You heard the bell, fellows!" Klaus Hilmar shouted at the tavern's clientele, "Town meeting in the square! Everyone out!" The place was quickly vacated. As she left, Gretchen wondered whether this would have anything to do with the brothers Grimm.


	4. Town Meeting

The center of the village was where everyone in the town gathered for meetings. All public announcements were held there. The lottery would also take place in the square tomorrow. Town meetings were called to order by the ringing of the church's steeple bell. The bell was very large, and since the village was rather small, everyone who needed to hear the meeting call could.

Mayor Weisskopf stood in the center of the square on a raised platform so that everyone could see him. To his right stood the town's crier and sheriff. To his left stood Jake and Will. Mayor Weisskopf was a short, fat man with a ruddy face that got even redder when he raised his voice. Right now it looked something like a large, deformed tomato.

"Order! Order! I call this town meeting to order!" he stomped his foot loudly on the platform. Eventually, everyone quieted down and the mayor's face went back to its normal, ruddy color.

"Thank you," he sighed, and wiped his face with a handkerchief. "Ladies and gentlemen of Schatzberg, as I am sure you are all aware, the day after tomorrow is All Souls' Day. And, on All Souls' Eve, we are, as always, obligated to produce a sacrifice to Balthazar the demon."

"Of course we know that, Weisskopf," shouted a slightly inebriated man towards the front of the crowd, "Get on with it! Why're we here?" This brought a chuckle from the crowd. Mayor Weisskopf attempted to look amused, laughing nervously.

"Certainly, certainly." He cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have believed for quite some time now that our lottery sacrifice is not...morally sound. That is why this year I have hired the legendary brothers Grimm to find and destroy Balthazar before All Souls' Day." This brought gasps and grumbles from those assembled. The women in the crowd seemed rather excited, but the men looked apprehensive.

"So far, these men have not found any sign of Balthazar. However, they promise me," he looked back at the Grimms, "that they shall defeat our demon." The crowd still looked unhappy.

"However, since they have not found Balthazar yet, I decree that the lottery will be held here tomorrow evening at three o'clock as scheduled. That is all. Are there any questions?"

Gretchen couldn't help herself. She raised her hand. "Mayor Weisskopf, is it true that you only hired these fellows so that you'd never have to worry about your daughters being included in the lottery?" All heads turned towards her. The mayor looked shocked. Will looked pissed as hell. Jake, on the other hand, just looked incredibly surprised.

"Well?" she asked, "Is it?" The mayor spluttered for a moment.

"That is most certainly _not_ true," he shouted, "I would never do anything so selfish!"

"I wouldn't be so sure," Gretchen commented. "If you really cared, you wouldn't risk our village like this." There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd.

"Did I not just say," the mayor cried, "that the lottery would continue as planned?"

"Yes, but you also said that the demon extermination would continue as planned."

"You mean to tell me that you _like_ people dying, year after year?"

"No, of course I don't. I just prefer losing one person a year rather than everyone all at once." More murmurs of agreement. It was then that Gretchen let her head get too big. "What do you say to that, Mayor _Scheiss_kopf?"

That did it. The mayor's face had gone beyond tomato and was now beet red.

"Sheriff Guntag, you heard the woman! What sort of offense is there for speaking against the mayor?"

"Actually," said Sheriff Guntag, looking rather amused, "I don't believe there is an offense for that, Herr Mayor." The crowd laughed uproariously. Gretchen tried not to look smug.

"Well..." the Mayor searched for what to say, "There ought to be!" he was trembling with anger. "Meeting dismissed!"

Peter caught up with his cousin as they walked back to the Drunken Steward.

"Gretchen, are you mad?"

"Not since I checked," she replied.

"You made a fool of the mayor in public, the day before the lottery!"

"Tell me why I should care, Peter."

"He'll fix the lottery! He'll make sure you get chosen!"

"No he won't, Peter. He doesn't even pull the names, the sheriff does."

"You don't think Weisskopf won't try to? The man's got money! Power!"

"But nobody likes him. Not even the sheriff."

"Nobody's perfect, Gretch. Anyone can bend to money or threats. You're going to have to watch your back, that's all I'm saying."

"Go back to the bar, Peter. People need drinks." Peter shook his head, but continued walking into the inn. Gretchen sighed.

"Gretchen!" someone shouted behind her. She turned around. It was Jake.

"Are you mad?" he asked her. Gretchen laughed.

"I just had this conversation," she said.

"Well, I don't care. That was a really dumb thing you did back there."

"The other villagers didn't seem to think so."

"_I_ thought so. Do you realize the danger you've put yourself in now? What if Weisskopf fixes the drawing?"

"I don't care. If I'm drawn, I'm drawn."

"How can you be so...so passive?" Jake was amazed.

"Look, why do you suddenly care so much about any of this?"

"Because I care about what happens to you." Gretchen frowned confusedly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I think this whole thing bothers you more than you're letting on," Jake said.

"Of course it bothers me! Year after year, somebody I've known since I was born is sacrificed to a creature from hell. Anyone would find that disturbing."

"Then why aren't you more concerned about your own death?"

"Because I don't consider that a problem! If I die, I die!"

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Of course I do!"

"No you don't. Can you honestly say that tomorrow, if your name is drawn, you'll just stand up and say 'that's right, I'm willing to die. I'm willing to undergo terrible pain and lose everything I've ever loved, even if it wasn't my time to go'?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"See? There's a lot more to it than you think, isn't there? What about all the people involved in your life? Your cousin? Your uncle? They'd all have lost a wonderful person for no reason at all."

"Wait a minute," Gretchen said, "You're just trying to get me to agree that killing Balthazar is a good idea."

"No! I'm not!" Jake was near hysterical now. "I'm just trying to get you to see the seriousness of the situation."

"There isn't anything I can do about it anyway," Gretchen said. "I can't go back and change what's been said or done. You're wasting your breath." She turned around. "I'm going back inside." She entered the tavern, Jake staring after her.

Gretchen went straight up to her room. She sat on the bed and thought about the things that Jake had just told her.

_I shouldn't have been so mean to Jacob_, she thought. _I shouldn't have tried to talk him down. What was the point of all of that, anyway? There I stood, shooting off smart responses when all he was trying to do was...was tell me he was concerned. Stupid, stupid, stupid..._

There was a knock on her door. Gretchen sniffed.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," Jake's voice answered. Immediately, Gretchen brightened. She went over and opened the door.

"Yes?"

"Erm...I was wondering if I might be able to look at those stories some more. I'd barely even started when I had to leave." Gretchen smiled. "Certainly. I'll go get them. By the way, are you hungry? I can get some food from the kitchen if you are."

"No, I'm fine," Jake replied. His stomach, however, grumbled in protest. Gretchen raised an eyebrow.

"You know," he said, "Now that I think of it, I think maybe I could do with some food." He grinned sheepishly.

"I thought you might," Gretchen smiled.

Three hours later, the two of them were discussing the stories in Gretchen's room, having finished eating long ago.

"This one about the girl and the wizard...It's quite good. I like the moral, particularly."

"Making her ugly so she could see what it was like in someone else's shoes, you mean?" Gretchen asked with her mouth full.

"Yes. I've always found transformations to be a particularly interesting subject," Jake said.

"That's funny, because I have as well. This was one that I co-wrote with Peter."

"Ah. Well, that makes it even better then, doesn't it?" Gretchen felt herself blush.

"I'll tell Peter you like that one."

"I like all of them really. But this one is especially good."

"Ahem." Will stood in the doorway. "Excuse me fraulein, but I was wondering if I might have a word with my brother."

"Certainly," Gretchen said.

"Thank you." Will and his brother left the room and went down the hall to their own.

Gretchen decided she ought to go downstairs and wash the plates. She entered from behind the bar, and went over to the washbasin. As she was scrubbing, the door opened and Sonya entered.

"Good evening, Sonya," Gretchen said pleasantly.

"Good enough for you, maybe," she said haughtily, plunking down a pile of dirty dishes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gretchen asked.

"D'you think I don't know what you were up to upstairs? With Jacob Grimm?

"We were eating and looking over Peter's manuscripts, Sonya, nothing more."

"Well, alls I wonder is why that's gotta be done in your private room."

"It's much quieter upstairs. You don't have to listen to all the rude people down here." Gretchen spoke sweetly, but her words were full of venom.

"Speak for yourself." Sonya narrowed her eyes and stalked out of the kitchen.

"What was that about?" Peter asked when Gretchen emerged from the kitchen.

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Sonya, obviously. She looked like she was mad enough to spit!"

"Oh. She was mouthing off about me and Jacob reading upstairs. She thought we were...you know. I can't believe her. She's so rude."

"Ah," Peter said. "So...did he have anything more to say about the stories?"

"Oh yes. He thinks they're great. He said he really liked the one about the girl and the wizard. The one where the girl gets turned ugly." Peter looked like he was about to explode with joy.

"Gretchen that's wonderful! Can you imagine how successful we could be with someone like Jacob Grimm backing us?"

"It would certainly be something, wouldn't it?" Gretchen smiled.

"No kidding! Look, Gretch, I'd better get back to work."

"Of course. I'm going back upstairs." Peter nodded.

Gretchen looked at the clock in her room. It was ten o'clock. The bar was still hopping downstairs, but she didn't have to work. It was early for her, but she thought it might be nice to get extra sleep tonight. Blew out the lantern and climbed into bed. But she found she couldn't sleep. What if her name _was_ drawn tomorrow? A feeling of panic grew in her stomach. She'd always thought before that if she was chosen, she'd just go. That was the way it worked. But now she was having second thoughts. There was a possible alternative. People wouldn't _have_ to die. _She_ wouldn't have to die.

_I can't believe I'm being so selfish_, Gretchen thought to herself, _this sacrifice is done for the good of the whole town. Everyone knows that and accepts that. I've even accepted it for years. So why don't I now?_ That was the thought in the back of Gretchen's head as she fell asleep.


	5. Of Lotteries and Alliances

Gretchen spent the next day working at a feverish pace. She didn't want to think about anything else but the lottery, of her suddenly increased chance of being chosen. Gretchen wasn't the only visibly nervous person, however. The bar's patrons started drinking earlier than usual, and were getting more than their usual amount of liquor. This wasn't surprising. Every year at this time, people's nerves got worked up about the lottery. Everyone dealt with it in their own way. The men drank. The women stayed inside sewing or cleaning or embroidering. Well, some of them anyway. Gretchen had never understood why people did needlepoint. It was silly and not much good in the long run. Her preferred method of calming her nerves was to preoccupy herself so she didn't have any time to think about her problem. This being the case, she poured herself into work. She had little time to talk to Peter or her uncle. She didn't even stop to shout at Sonya when she ignored her duties. Time went by in a blur.

"I must say Gretchen, I've rarely seen you this dedicated to your chores," Klaus Hilmar chuckled as his niece began filling another order.

"Someone's got to pick up the slack," she said by way of excuse, "Besides; we've got all this extra business! I don't want to keep any customers waiting too long."

Klaus patted her on the shoulder. "Just don't exhaust yourself, my dear."

"I won't," Gretchen said, though truth be told, she did feel a little tired.

Before Gretchen realized it, the clock struck three. Suddenly the barroom grew deathly silent. Seconds later, the church bell began ringing. The time for the lottery had come. Those in the Drunken Steward hardly made a noise as they rose from their chairs and left to assemble in the square. On the way out, Gretchen passed Sonya, and noticed that she was smiling.

"What've you got to smirk about?" Gretchen asked miserably.

"Nothin'. I'm just wondering what it'll be like once you've gone." Sonya's smile turned into a humorless grin. It was all Gretchen could do not to hit her.

Sheriff Guntag stood on the platform now. A wooden box filled with slips of paper sat on a table in front of him. Behind the sheriff sat Mayor Weisskopf with his wife and three daughters. Gretchen looked around, but saw not trace of Jake and Will. She assumed they were still out looking for some way to defeat Balthazar.

"Is everyone here?" Sheriff Guntag looked around. Gretchen felt a nudge and looked over to see Peter sidling up next to her.

"Good luck, Gretch," he attempted a smile.

"You too," she whispered back.

"Everyone present and accounted for?" Sheriff Guntag asked again, doing a quick head count. "Excellent. Well, let's get started!" He rubbed his hands together and removed a key from his ring. With a loud _CLICK_ the padlock on the lottery chest opened. There was a long, ominous creak as the lid came back. Sheriff Guntag reached his hand in and stirred the papers around. Finally, he pulled out a name. There was a collective gasp as he opened the folded paper.

"Roland Gunderson, would you please step forward?" There was a murmur, but nobody came. Gretchen breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Roland Gunderson, please." There was another long pause.

"Oh come now!" Sheriff Guntag dropped his hands in exasperation. "Does anyone know where Roland Gunderson is?"

"Sure I do!" came an old woman's voice from the back, "He's under the old oak tree in the churchyard. Roland Gunderson died two months ago!"

"Peterson!" Guntag shouted to his deputy, "Go to the churchyard and make sure the old woman's telling the truth, would you?"

"Yes sir." Peterson took off at top speed to the churchyard. Gretchen seized up again. The deputy was back in less than a minute, but it seemed an eternity.

"Roland Gunderson is, in fact, dead sir," Peterson said upon his return.

"Well, that takes care of him, then." Sheriff Guntag crumpled up Roland Gunderson's lottery slip irritably and tossed it over his shoulder. Again he reached into the chest, stirred around the slips, reached his hand in and pulled one out. Gretchen was about to explode.

Everything from that point seemed to happen in slow motion. Later, Gretchen would swear that Sheriff Guntag's voice suddenly took on a booming quality, as though it were the voice of God himself.

"Peter Hilmar, will you please step forward?" Gretchen gasped so hard that she almost choked. Peter looked stunned. He trembled like a leaf as he stepped forward to approach the podium.

"Peter, no!" Gretchen hissed desperately. She grabbed her cousin's wrist.

"Let go, Gretch." Peter sounded as though he were on the verge of tears. Gretchen did so, sobbing. The crowd parted as Peter approached the platform. Sheriff Guntag placed a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"Peter Hilmar, you have been chosen as this year's sacrifice."

"Yes, sir," Peter said nervously. He had gone deathly pale.

"You are to be escorted by my men to the jail, where you will be kept until eleven o'clock tonight. At midnight, you shall be sacrificed to the demon Balthazar."

"Yes, sir."

"Men, take Mr. Hilmar to the jail." Two policemen stepped up from the side of the platform. Quietly, they led him off the platform. Gretchen couldn't take any more. The anger, the pain that was welling up inside of her came gushing out.

"NO!" she screamed, running through the crowd, "Don't take him! Please, please don't take him!" She fell to her knees in front of Sheriff Guntag. "Please, Sheriff, I beg you! Don't take my cousin."

"Stand aside, fraulein." Sheriff Guntag pushed her aside.

"Take me instead!" she implored.

"Gretchen, no!" Peter cried, "Don't do this." He hung his head resignedly.

"I suggest you return home and let your cousin fulfill his purpose," Sheriff Guntag told Gretchen. He spoke with authority, but Gretchen could tell he didn't like this any more than she did.

"Gretchen, come on," Klaus squeezed Gretchen's shoulder, "Let's go back to the inn, alright?" Gretchen looked at her uncle. He was crying. His eyes were averted, as though he couldn't bear to see his son being led away. The policemen continued walking. Peter didn't even look back. Gretchen's sorrow suddenly turned into anger.

_I've got to get him out of there,_ she thought, _even if I have to go by myself._

The Drunken Steward stayed open for another hour, but it was clear that nobody was able to function well under the strain of their grief. Even Sonya seemed to have felt the effects of Peter's absence. There wasn't as much sting in her words now, though that could have been due just as much to her disappointment that Gretchen wasn't selected. At four o' clock, Klaus Hilmar gave the shout for last call. At four-thirty, everyone had gone. The only thing on Gretchen's mind as she cleaned the tables and went upstairs was how to spring her cousin from his heavily guarded cell in the town jail.

At five, Gretchen heard voices downstairs. Jake and Will had returned.

"Anyone here?" Will shouted.

"Yes, but we're closed," Gretchen shouted from upstairs. She emerged from her room. "Sorry, gentlemen. I know it's early, but it's been something of a hard afternoon." She sniffed and wiped away a tear. She went down the stairs to meet them.

"Have you been crying, Gretchen?" Jake asked her. Gretchen nodded.

"They held the lottery earlier," she said quickly.

"But then…if you're still here…"

"No, I didn't get chosen, if that's what you're wondering," Gretchen said.

"Then what's the matter?" Will asked.

"It's Peter, my cousin. He was selected. They've got him in the jail now, and they'll keep him there until 11 tonight."

"Oh…" Jake was stunned. "I'm…I'm sorry Gretchen."

"Thanks. But don't worry. I'm going to get him back."

"I'm sorry, what?" Will said, disbelieving, "Did you just say you were going to get him back?"

"Glad to see you've not lost your hearing, Herr Grimm."

"Does that mean you're on our side now?" Will asked.

"Yes. I want to save my cousin, and it would seem that saving him would also mean getting rid of Balthazar."

"Sounds good enough," Will said, "We'll help you."

"I wasn't asking for any help," Gretchen said.

"No, but something tells me you won't do much good by yourself." Gretchen thought about this for a moment. He was right. If she tried to spring Peter by herself, she'd be outnumbered, and any one of those guards were probably stronger than she was anyway.

"What's the catch?" she asked.

"You have to help us," Will said.

"How?"

"Um…" Jake wrung his hands uncomfortably.

"We've not had much luck navigating the terrain," Will cut in. "We thought since you live here, you'd probably know the area better than we would…we're looking for a lair. A possible base of operations for Balthazar. Would you be willing to help us look?"

"Count me in," she said. "When should we meet?"

"It'll be dark by eight, so meet us at the stables then. Bring anything you think might be useful."

Gretchen nodded. "I'll meet you then." Gretchen left the Brothers, and went up to her room to prepare. A reassuring feeling swept through her as she climbed the stairs. They were going to get Peter back.


	6. Potent Muffins

**A/N: Hey, all! Thanks to everybody who's reviewed so far. The responses have been so positive! Keep 'em coming. Sorry I took so long with chapter six. I've been rather swamped lately by homework, but this weekend I finally got some time to write. Anyway, here's the newest chapter! Keep watching for updates, since chapter seven should be up soon. Thanks again to all you readers!**

**-Whizzo**

* * *

Gretchen had a hard time keeping still until eight o'clock. She kept racking her brains for a plan to save Peter. It was hard to come up with one. Every idea she had kept running out to a dead end. Luckily, there was a knock on her door around six-thirty. It was Will.

"What's up?" Gretchen asked upon seeing him.

"I was wondering if you'd thought up a plan yet for getting your cousin out."

"Well…" Gretchen tried to appear confidant, but failed. "No. I'm afraid I haven't got much of an idea. I haven't had much experience trying to spring people, and most of the officers on duty know me."

"Ah, the joys of small town life," Will smiled. "Well, Jake and I would be willing to help you if you haven't come up with anything yet. But, um…I was wondering if perhaps you might be able to provide us with some food before we leave. A rumbling stomach could blow our cover, you know."

The idea hit Gretchen like a ton of bricks.

"A rumbling stomach…That's it! That's just it! Will, I've got an idea!"

Will frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"_Muffins_, Will! The guards won't be paying attention to Peter if they're too busy sitting on the can."

Will's eyes widened. "Do you need any help?"

Gretchen smiled mischievously. "I think I can find a place for you."

At seven-thirty, there was a knock on the jailhouse door. Deputy Peterson and Lieutenant Olfer both turned their heads at the sound. Peterson got up, unlocked and opened the door.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Will flashed a smile at the two guards.

"Um…Good evening, Herr Grimm," Peterson looked surprised and a little confused. "Aren't you supposed to be out…vanquishing Balthazar?"

"My brother is already preparing. I was just on my way to join him when Herr Stein, the baker, stopped me and asked if I might take you this basket of muffins. He said it's meant to help you on your long duty this evening." Will offered a basket full of lovely-smelling golden-brown muffins. Peterson's stomach rumbled and Olfer licked his chops.

"How very nice of Herr Stein," Peterson took the basket. "I will be sure to thank him tomorrow."

"Enjoy, gentlemen. I'll just be on my way now." Will nodded to Olfer and Peterson, and left.

"Well, wasn't that nice of good old Herr Stein," Peterson said. "Don't you think so, Olfer?"

"They smell wonderful," Olfer said eagerly. Peterson smiled at his companion and tossed him a muffin. Both men took huge bites.

"The taste…" Olfer stared at his muffin, contemplating it. "I think I can confidently say that this is the best muffin I've ever had in my life." He turned to the cell behind him. "Would you like one, Peter? Y'know, last meal and all?"

Peter Hilmar looked up from where he was sitting on the floor.

"No thanks, fellows. I…I'm really not that hungry." He looked back down at the floor.

"Alright, Peter. But you don't know what you're missing, mate." Olfer took another satisfying bite of his muffin.

Will walked nonchalantly away from the jailhouse. When he was sure nobody was looking, he sneaked off and hid behind a nearby bunch of shrubbery.

"How long did you say it would take?" he asked.

"About half an hour," Gretchen said.

"Perfect. How long will they be...indisposed?"

"Long enough, I'm sure. I didn't put too much flax meal in, but it should work."

"Good job, Gretchen." Will gave his accomplice a triumphant pat on the back. "I'm going to go back to the inn and make sure everything's ready. You wait here until Olfer and Peterson leave. You remember what to do after that, right?"

"I'll take Peter back to the inn so he's safe, then meet Jake and head up to the mountains."

"Excellent. I'll see you later then." Will winked at Gretchen and left.

"Right," Gretchen murmured, and then turned back towards the jailhouse. _Why is Will suddenly being so nice to me, _she wondered. It did seem a little odd that just yesterday she'd been speaking so sarcastically to him, and now they seemed to be getting along. She tried to shrug off the uneasy feeling. _I suppose it doesn't really matter. It was good of him to help, anyway._ Gretchen's thoughts turned to more immediate matters. She hoped that Peter hadn't eaten any of the muffins. The last thing she wanted was for _him_ to be using the outhouse the whole night. Truth be told, she did feel a little guilty for putting flax meal in the muffins. Olfer and Peterson were nice men, and she didn't want to hurt them. But if she wanted to get Peter out, she needed the guards to be out of the way, and this had seemed to be the best idea.

Gretchen shifted herself. The air was chilly, and she was getting impatient. Just how long had it been? Finally, after what seemed like ages, the back door of the jailhouse opened with a sudden bang. Olfer stumbled out and ran towards one of the outhouses. Nobody came out after him.

_Come on, Peterson! Come on!_ Gretchen thought to herself. Finally Peterson staggered over to the other outhouse. The back door was wide open. Gretchen smiled to herself, and looked at her purse to make sure she had what she needed. The lock pick was there, tucked safely in a pocket. Gretchen took off and ran inside.

Peter was right at the front of the two rows of cells. He was staring at the floor, looking sad and miserable.

"Peter!" Gretchen hissed to her cousin. Peter's head snapped up.

"Gretchen? What are you doing here?"

"I'm springing you, that's what." Gretchen took the pick out of her purse.

"Herr Stein didn't make those muffins, did he?" Peter asked, an amused smile on his face. Gretchen shook her head.

"You didn't eat any, did you?" She stuck the pick into the lock and twisted it around.

"No. I was beginning to regret it, but now I'm glad I didn't. Did you cook this scheme up by yourself?"

"No. Jacob and Will helped me. I'm to go up to the mountains after I get you home and help them. Ah!" there was a loud CLUNK, and the door swung open. Peter got to his feet and followed his cousin to the door.

"You mean you just want me to go home and lock myself in?" Peter frowned. "That's the last thing I've got on my mind. Can't I come with you?"

"You can't be seen. That's what Will said, and I agree. I'm getting you out of here so you won't be in danger. I'm not going to risk your life again."

"Well, what about you? I don't want you getting hurt either."

"Look, Peter, this really isn't the time to argue. I'm not sure how long those muffins are going to work, so we'd better run. Come on!" Gretchen took her cousin's hand, and they ran as fast as they possibly could towards town.

"Alright, Peter," Gretchen fumbled with the lock on the Inn's front door, "promise me that you won't try to sneak out."

"You can't be serious about this, Gretch."

"Please, Peter." Gretchen opened the door and ushered her cousin inside.

"I don't like this at all, Gretchen. What if something happens to you?"

"I'll be careful, I swear." Gretchen walked Peter to his room. "Give me your key."

"What?"

"I know you're not deaf, Peter. I need the key so I know you won't try to leave your room." Grudgingly, Peter dug into his pocket and produced his key.

"You just got me out of jail, but I still feel like a prisoner," he grumbled.

"That's the spirit." Gretchen shoved her cousin into his room and locked the door behind him.

Jake was waiting at the stable when Gretchen arrived.

"Did you get your cousin then?" he asked.

"Oh yes. Peter's locked in his room, safe and sound. I even got the key."

"Great." Jake looked around shiftily.

"Something's been bothering you all afternoon, Jacob. What is it?" Gretchen asked.

"What?" Jake looked startled. "Nothing! I'm not bothered by anything at all. Here." He handed her the reins to one of the horses. "Will's already up there. We'll need to hurry if this thing's going to work.

"So, what's the plan? Have you found out anything else?"

"I have, actually. Do you need a leg up?" Gretchen shook her head.

"No thanks, I'm fine." She pulled herself up into the saddle. "Anyway, what did you find out?"

Jake pulled himself up onto his horse and they started off. "Well, you remember what you said about nobody knowing why your town was cursed?"

"Yes..."

"I think I may have found the reason why." Gretchen almost stopped the horse.

"How on earth did you manage that?"

"It took a little detective work, but I'm pretty certain I've figured out what happened."

"Continue, then!"

"I looked into the town records, and apparently there was a murder that took place here a little under two centuries ago. There was a lord here by the name of Muller. This Muller fellow had two sons. The older one was in line to gain his father's inheritance, but apparently he did something to lose favor with his family. The records didn't specify what he did, but it must have been bad, because he was denied any share of his father's money. After this was declared, the older son came back and massacred his family."

"That's horrible," Gretchen shuddered.

"But it doesn't end there," Jake said. "You see, apparently by this time the younger son already had a family of his own. He sent his wife and young son into hiding somewhere and came out to face his brother. There was a big battle, and the younger son was mortally wounded, but he didn't die before killing his older brother."

"So you think that the older brother, the murderous one, is Balthazar."

Jake nodded. "And, if I've got this right, the curse _can_ actually be stopped."

Gretchen sat up in her saddle.

"How? How can it be?"

"Um..." Jake stopped suddenly, and looked at his watch. "We've got to get up there. There's not much time to lose." He broke into a gallop. Gretchen kicked her own horse to get up speed.

"You're just going to leave me hanging like that?" she asked.

"I'll tell you the rest once we meet up with Will," Jake shouted over his shoulder.

Gretchen frowned. Something was afoot here, but she knew not what. She would just have to wait and see until they arrived at their destination.

The ride up into the mountains was a long one, and Gretchen was exhausted by the time they arrived one hour later. It was a little after ten o' clock. Will stood in the middle of a clearing, a large wooden pole, a long rope and a leather doctor's bag stood nearby.

Gretchen was confused. "What's going on?" she asked.

Will looked from Gretchen to Jake. "You didn't finish telling her, did you?"

Jake sighed. "I thought it would be better to wait until we got here."

"What? What were you going to tell me?" Gretchen was apprehensive. She'd known something strange was happening, and from the looks of it, that strange thing involved her.

"Do you want to tell her Jake, or shall I?" Will asked.

"You do it." Jake hung his head, "The papers are in the case." He indicated the doctor's bag.

"What papers?" Gretchen asked.

"You'll see." Will walked over to the case and retrieved a few sheets of brittle yellow parchment. "Just how much did my brother tell you?"

"He told me about the murder. He told me the curse could be broken."

"Ah, good. From what we've seen in cases like this, it looks as though Balthazar could be defeated if he were...infected I think is the word, by someone from his brother's family line."

"Is that because his brother was the one who killed him?" Gretchen inquired.

"Yes. Anyway, Jacob here did some research, and came up with a family tree." So saying, Will pulled out the parchment and unfolded it. "What we have here is the bloodline of Norbert Muller. Gretchen glanced at the parchment. Norbert Muller's name appeared at the top. Next to it was that of his wife, and below that was the name of his son, and who his son had married. It continued on down the paper. Near the bottom, Gretchen saw a familiar name.

"Johann Mills...That's my father!"

"Correct. And seeing as he's died, there's only one possible candidate left."

The realization was there in a flash.

"You brought me here to sacrifice me. You lied! You said nothing about killing me!"

"Oh, come now!" Will exclaimed, "Would you have come here if we'd told you what was _really_ going to happen?"

"Of course not, and I'm not going to let you kill me now!"

"It shouldn't kill you," Jake put in.

"What?"

"Balthazar possessing you may not kill you. Since you're a descendent of Norbert Muller, your body would force Balthazar out of you and destroy him. It's quite probable that you'd come out of this alive."

"You'd also be saving the town, which I should think would be a bonus," Will added.

"We've taken every precaution to make sure you'll be alright," Jake said.

Gretchen sighed. "Is there any alternative?" Jake shook his head.

"This is the only way I could find." Gretchen thought about this for a moment.

"Alright," she said, "what do I have to do?"


	7. It's all in the Blood

It was 11:55 in Schatzberg. On the mountain, Gretchen Mills stood against a long wooden pole, her hands tied tightly behind her back.

"You're sure I'll be alright?"

"Well, I can't say you won't have experienced some psychological changes, but physically, yes. You should be fine." Jake tried to sound reassuring.

"Oh...Good." Gretchen wanted to sound unafraid, but the butterflies in her stomach wouldn't let her.

"Um...I really admire you for going through with this, you know. This is really brave, what you're doing."

"You said it yourself: there's no other way."

Jake glanced at his pocket watch. "It's nearly time. Er...Good luck, Gretchen." He turned to leave.

"Jacob."

"What?"

Gretchen turned her head. "Come closer." Jake did so nervously. Gretchen smiled and kissed him. It lasted only a moment but it felt strangely fulfilling, as though this were something she'd been building up to the last two days.

"You needn't worry about me," she told him, "I'll be fine." Jake stood there for a moment, looking stunned.

"Aren't you the least bit scared?"

"I'm terrified. But that's not important. You should go now. I'd hate to see Balthazar possess you instead of me." Jake nodded, and left.

The clock in town struck twelve. Cold fear swept through Gretchen's veins like ice. There was a sudden wind, and she shivered. Balthazar was coming. She could feel it. The wind got stronger and stronger. Branches whipped about in the wind. Leaves flew about like large fiery clouds. There was a smell of sulfur, and a flash of lightning. There in front of her stood a middle-aged man. Or what was at one time a middle-aged man. The figure's flesh was looking gangrenous. His hair (what little was left) fell to the ground in clumps. He smelled awful. These things were all discomforting, but what scared Gretchen the most were the figure's eyes. They looked as though they were made of fire, as though some inner flame fueled him. There were no traces of good in those eyes, only evil.

Gretchen pressed herself against the wooden pole, trying to save face. She wanted to scream, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. The figure spoke in a raspy, damaged voice.

"You are the sacrifice the village sends?"

"Yes, that I am," Gretchen's voice, to her great surprise, didn't waver a bit.

"Your body is young and strong. That is good. I am tired of these old, weak bodies that are past their prime," Balthazar rasped.

"My...My body is yours, demon. Use it as you need."

"You are more willing than the other sacrifices. Why?"

"I am doing what is necessary to honor my village's agreement with you," Gretchen replied. _Cut the small talk and possess me already,_ she thought.

"Your soul is strong. No doubt it shall be missed. But that is none of my concern. Let us complete this business." Gretchen gasped as the body Balthazar was inhabiting neared her. The stench was becoming worse and worse. Suddenly, demon's body was pressed against her, its mouth clamped on top of hers. The smell of decaying flesh was so horrible that Gretchen wanted to retch, but this instinct was quickly overcome by a white-hot pain flooding her body. She screamed in pain, writhed on the pole.

_I must keep my soul, I must keep my soul, I must keep my soul,_ she repeated to herself over and over, a mental mantra. She tried to keep in mind all the things she had to live for. Peter, Uncle Klaus, her town…Will. Jacob. Mental images flashed through her mind with increasing speed. Gretchen felt sure her body would explode. The ropes that bound her to the pole broke apart, and she fell to the ground, curled up. A new subconscious voice entered her mind, and she knew it was the demon's.

_Leave, mortal spirit,_ it said, _I am the master of this body now._

_No,_ Gretchen replied, _you are not. I have the blood of Norbert Muller in my veins; blood that is poison to you. Feel it and die, demon Balthazar. I am not afraid of you._

Gretchen's body was suddenly overcome by cold, then heat, then cold again. The temperature within her fluctuated violently.

_SUBMIT!_ Balthazar shouted.

_NO!_ Gretchen shouted back, _I do not fear you. YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME!_ She felt her spirit growing stronger. More temperature changes.

_Vile girl! You have infected me!_ The demon shook its host's body. There was a sound like ice cracking, and all at once everything stopped. There was a slight hissing noise. Gretchen was exhausted. She found it hard to move, and even to breathe. She closed her eyes and saw nothing more. She was vaguely aware of footsteps and shouting as the world dimmed around her.

Gretchen woke again slowly. At first everything seemed a hazy fog. Then her eyes came into focus. Jake and Will were kneeling on either side of her.

"Hello, boys," she muttered. Will smiled. Jake looked overjoyed.

"You're alright!" he exclaimed.

"Why are you so surprised? I thought you said I probably wouldn't die."

"I did, yes. But I...we were still concerned."

"How long was I asleep for?"

"About an hour," Will told her. "You had a terrible fever, but now it's gone."

"I was so exhausted...I couldn't breathe."

"We know," Jake said, "You did stop breathing for a moment. I had to resuscitate you. How do you feel now?"

"Fine. Tired, but fine. Can we go back to the Drunken Steward now?" Will nodded.

"Can you ride?" he asked.

"I think so, if we go slowly."

"Then we'll go slowly. Come on, up you get." Jake and Will helped Gretchen to her feet.

"Thanks," Gretchen hauled herself onto her horse. The three of them turned around and plodded down the mountain towards Schatzberg. Will took the lead while Jake rode beside Gretchen.

"Where were you while I was fighting Balthazar?"

"Will and I were in the bushes behind you. Did it hurt much when...you know...?"

"More than I could possibly imagine. It was like I was being burned and then frozen to death."

"I'm sorry. Nobody should have to go through that. If there were any other way…"

"I know. I did what I had to do. If anything, I should be thanking you."

"For what?" Jake frowned.

"Without your plan, my cousin would have been the next sacrifice. For me, a life without Peter is no life at all. He's practically my brother. It was worth all that pain to save the people I love."

Jake shook his head. "You have got to be one of the bravest people I know."

Gretchen blushed. "I wasn't _that_ brave."

"Your modesty is beginning to annoy me, Gretchen."

"I suppose it was pretty good, wasn't it?" she smiled.

"_That's_ more like it."

They continued riding in silence. After a while, Jake broke the silence again.

"There is…something more I'd like to know," he said.

"What?" Gretchen asked.

"Why did you kiss me back there?"

"I was sure you'd have figured that out by now." Gretchen smiled mischievously. "I _know_ you've got feelings for me, Jacob. You made that quite obvious. I was just…reciprocating."

"I see." Jacob smiled back. "Well, seeing as I didn't catch on the first time, I think you should do it again."

"Oh you do, do you?" Gretchen's smile widened to a grin. Jake nodded. "Well, alright then." She leaned over and kissed him again. "How did that come across?"

"Infinitely better."

"Hey, keep it clean back there!" Will called from in front of them. "Am I going to have to separate the two of you?"

Gretchen just laughed.

In an hour's time, they had arrived back at the Drunken Steward. The town was totally still. Gretchen smiled. She couldn't wait to see the reaction the next morning when everyone found out that Balthazar had been destroyed.

"Will you two be coming in for the night?" she asked.

"We'd better be letting the mayor know what's happened," Will said, "It'd be a shame for Olfer and Peterson to suffer a firing in addition to elimination troubles."

"I suppose I'll leave the door unlocked then," Gretchen said. "That's the first time I've known us to leave it open on All Souls' Eve." She smiled.

"Thanks in no small part to you," Will said. "C'mon, Jake, we'd better tell Schiesskopf what's become of Balthazar."

"His name's Weisskopf, Will," Gretchen corrected.

"Did I say Schiesskopf? Must've been a slip of the tongue." Will winked and nudged Jake. "Let's go."

"Right," his brother replied. He glanced at Gretchen, giving her a goofy smile before taking off after Will. Gretchen waved, watching them until they had reached the end of the main road. She opened the door and went inside the inn, taking care to leave it unlocked.


End file.
